


parentdale tumblr drabbles

by bisexualfpjones



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: E rating for literally one chapter, Multi, honestly who knows what i wrote in any of these, i feel like most of them are tame, trigger warning for homophobia tho i know thats definitely involved in some
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25447447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualfpjones/pseuds/bisexualfpjones
Summary: im just uploading my stuff from tumblr... as the title suggests lmao whaddup
Relationships: Alice Cooper/Gladys Jones, FP Jones II/Gladys Jones, Fred Andrews/FP Jones II, Fred Andrews/FP Jones II/Hiram Lodge
Comments: 9
Kudos: 21





	1. I have had nightmares every night for the past three weeks and now they’re gone because of you, how did you do that? -fred/fp

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so on the off-chance you clicked on this and have no idea who i am, my tumblr is @fredsythe just so we're all on the same page. ANYWHO none of these are edited and are probably bad but i just wanted all my drabbles in one place because tumblrs a shitshow and who knows how long we have left with it. is anyone reading this? no? great.

It’s been three weeks since his dad kicked him out. For real, this time, not just the usual bullshit of getting locked out and having to find a bridge or park bench to sleep under for the night while his old man cooled off. Apparently this time was different. They had both grown sick of each other, giving up all hope that change was ever gonna come. Senior was never gonna stop being drunk hateful prick, and FP was never gonna stop being a fucking fag, so after one last final showdown it was settled. FP no longer had a father (if he ever had one to start), and Senior had no son. Not necessarily a clean break, but that was never gonna happen anyway.

He lucked out on finding a place of his own. About a week of couch surfing before Old Man Wallace kicked the bucket and FP swooped in like a bat outta hell to claim his trailer with what little savings he had stashed away for emergencies. 

The place creeped him out, felt the lingering presence of death around every corner. But beggars can’t be choosers, and he figured he should feel lucky enough just to have a roof over his head. Not that it mattered much. For someone who had been so eager to finally be out on his own, the crushing weight of what that reality meant starting wearing him thin from his first night alone.

FP was no stranger to nightmares, hadn’t gotten a restful night’s sleep maybe ever. But new anxieties started manifesting in grotesque imageries every time he shut his eyes at night, and he found himself waking with a start more than he was used to. He’d eventually given up trying to ever sleep again, taking to the streets in the middle of the night, riding his motorcycle along the backstreets until the sun started to peak over the horizon. Only then would he return home, collapse, gather up enough strength to get himself through another day. Rinse. Repeat.

He could only keep up the charade so long before Fred took notice, calling attention to the ever darkening bags under FP’s eyes, the lilt in his posture, the thousand yard stare he’d fall into mid conversation. FP brushed it off, of course, blamed it on grueling football practices and late nights partying. Wasn’t enough to stop Fred from showing up on his doorstep to play nurse or whatever.

“I told you, Freddie, I’m fine,” FP says, leaving the door open as he spins back to the kitchen to pour himself a coffee despite the late hour.

“And I believe you,” Fred lies, since apparently that’s what they’re doing now. He walks into the trailer for the first time, makes a quick assessment of the bare surroundings as he sets his overnight bag down, closes the door behind him. It’s about what he expected. No furniture save for a lone recliner that’s seen better days, a couple of crates stacked up for a makeshift table. But that’s a problem for a different day.

His focus now is on getting the mug out of FP’s hands before he can take a gulp, the action not met without protest. “But can we just go through tonight without caffeine maybe?” He sets the coffee down on the counter behind FP, letting his arms fall around his waist in the process as he takes a step closer so their bodies are flush. 

FP narrows his eyes at him, thinks about saying no. Realizes there’s better ways to spend his night. “Fine,” he relents, pretends to be all defeated before he scoops Fred up in his arms and heads to the bedroom.

Fred lets out a yelp, hands quickly finding purchase on FP’s shoulders to steady himself while his legs lock around him, FP never missing a step. “What are you doing!” He knows what this is. It’s FP causing a distraction, like he always does when someone’s getting too close to the root of his troubles. But dammit if Fred can’t find it in him to actually be mad.

“What?” FP asks, all fake innocent. His hands slide up to grab Fred’s butt, give him a little boost. “I don’t got tv or board games or any other shit.” He plops Fred down on his bed - a mattress on an old boxspring on the floor - before settling between his legs, looming over him like he’s prey. “What kind of host would I be if I didn’t entertain my guest?”

Fred scoffs. “Oh, is that what this is?” It’s bullshit, he knows it is. But somehow he can’t find it in him to argue when FP’s taking his shirt off in front of him. 

“You complaining?” He grabs Fred’s thighs, drags swiftly down the mattress until he’s practically seated on FP’s lap.

Fred should say something. Should push FP off and tell him to stop playing around and ask him point blank why he’s been walking around these past few weeks like a zombie. 

But FP’s fingers working the front of his jeans is a little distracting, and all the blood in his head is already rushing south, so all he can really manage is a roll of his eyes and a groan as he grabs the back of FP’s neck to pull him down with a gravelly “C’mere,” before accepting defeat and kissing him stupid.

-

It’s the smell of bacon that wakes FP up. Not a scream or a cold sweat. He’s confused for a moment before he spots Fred’s clothes on the floor, and suddenly everything comes back to him. 

The sun’s shining bright from where it peaks behind the blanket he has tacked up over the window. He can’t remember the last time he’s woken up to that.

He stumbles out of bed, still feeling tired but more rested than he has in weeks. He pulls on a pair of sweats before following the smell out to the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from one eye as Fred turns to him, all bright eyed and beaming as he stands at the stove in nothing but his underwear.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says as FP comes up behind him, drapes himself around Fred’s body and buries his face between his shoulder blades. The hand that’s not being used to flip bacon comes up to rest over FP’s arm around his waist. “I went to the store to get food for breakfast. Your kitchen’s kinda bare.”

FP grunts something unintelligible against Fred’s back before placing a kiss there. “What time is it?” He hooks his chin over Fred’s shoulder.

Fred checks his watch, frowns. “12… Oh. Guess it’s afternoon, then.” He puts the finished bacon onto a plate. FP unwraps himself from his position to grab plates of pancakes and eggs that Fred’s already made, takes them out to the living room and sets them on the crates before the pair settles on the floor.

“I haven’t slept this late in ages,” FP says before stuffing his face with pancakes. Fred hasn’t touched his food yet, just keeps staring at FP with this soft look on his face. FP swallows, suddenly feeling like he’s under the spotlight. It’s that look Fred’s giving him. The one where he wants to ask something but won’t, but somehow still manages to get the answer out of FP anyway. 

FP clears his throat, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. He thinks about getting up to get a drink if only to distract himself, stall. His fingers drum against his knee as he works on an escape plan.

“F…” The cadence of Fred’s voice is so calming despite his obvious worry. And FP doesn’t want to lie anymore.

“I’ve been having nightmares.” It rushes out in one breath. Like he’s embarrassed. Like he’s too old for something so childish. Like he’s expecting Fred to laugh at him or call him stupid. But Fred doesn’t do any of those things, of course he doesn’t. And FP feels stupid for even thinking he would. It’s just an echo of his father, he knows. But still. 

Fred just keeps looking at him with that same soft look, those same soft eyes that tell him it’s okay, I’m listening.

So FP takes a deep breath, goes on. “I have had nightmares every night for the past three weeks. And suddenly you’re here and they’re gone.” He can’t help but look at Fred like he’s the eighth wonder. Like he possesses some secret truth FP’s been searching for his whole life. “How did you do that?”

Fred scoots a little closer, reaches out his hand to run through FP’s hair, and curled and messy from sleep. FP can’t help but lean in to the touch. “Well, I did do a good job wearing you out last night.” It’s a joke, meant to make FP laugh. It works.

“I think it was more than that.”

Fred smiles, brushes some curls out of FP’s face, keeps his fingers stroking through his hair. “What’re the nightmares about?”

“My dad, mostly. That he’s gonna come after me. That he won’t just… let me go.” FP’s voice shakes on that last part. Fred pulls him in to his side, rests FP’s head against his shoulder before pressing a kiss to his hair.

“He’s not gonna hurt you anymore,” Fred says softly, but fiercely. “I’ll stay here every night if I have to.”

“I wish you could,” FP whispers, so low Fred doesn’t think he was meant to hear it. 

“I will,” Fred promises. “Even if I have to sneak out. I’ll do it.”

FP sighs, pushing off lazily. “I don’t want you getting in trouble ‘cause of me, Fred.”

“Too damn bad, I’m doing it anyway.” Fred’s hands stay lingering on FP.

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” The corner’s of FP’s mouth tick up in a smirk. Can’t help himself. 

“A pain in the ass who’s gonna make sure you get some sleep.” Fred smiles, knows he’s won the argument. Leans in to kiss FP’s temple. “Now finish your damn breakfast before it gets cold.

FP gathers up a forkful of pancakes and eggs, shoving them into his mouth til it’s stuffed just to be spiteful. It would annoy him, anyone else telling him what to do, expecting him to follow orders. But somehow when it’s Fred, he doesn’t mind. He acts like he does, of course. Can never do things easy. But truth be told it’s nice having someone look out for him. Someone who cares. Someone who can keep the monsters at bay.


	2. gladys/alice vampire/werewolf au

the full moon always takes it out of her. 

she’s at her strongest as it sits high in the sky; runs faster, sees farther, fights harder. it calls to her, its song reverberating through her bones as she chases her way through the woods on a hunt. 

but by dawn she’s exhausted, a tiredness that seeps through every nerve of her being.

it’s how alice finds her, at the edge of the forest, clothes folded neatly in her hands as she’s, begrudgingly, taken to doing the past few lunar cycles. 

they’re at a truce- the vampires and the werewolves - at least for the time being. bigger fish to fry. and neither woman will admit it, but it’s actually not so bad, being on the same side.

gladys’ wolf stops a few feet short of the vampire, stretching out her front legs and letting out a short howl. alice rolls her eyes. “okay, fido.” gladys growls at the nickname. “you’ve had your fun. now come here,” alice demands.

gladys stays put in a moment of defiance before trotting over to the other woman. she rubs her coat up against alice’s legs in the way she hates, eliciting a groan of “i’m gonna smell like dog now. stop it!” but she doesn’t move away, just shifts her legs like she wants to, but never actually does. “i told you last time was the last time, and i meant it. now hurry up and change back so i can go.”

gladys doesn’t back away when alice tries swatting her. she just leans against her even more, blocking out how goddamn sweet the vampire smells. something she’s had to learn to ignore spending more time together.

“i’ll just leave you here. you know i will,” alice tries to protest. but gladys looks up at her, ears falling back and eyes going wide, and for centuries this trick was not meant to work on her kind, but alice finds herself huffing in annoyance and falling to the ground anyway, sticking gladys’ clothes underneath her so to not ruin her pastel skirt.

gladys happily plops down right onto her lap, dirtying her skirt anyway. another victory.

“you’re buying me a new one, i hope you know,” alice says. gladys just sticks her paw out to tap at her hand. “yeah, yeah. i know.”

this is what it comes down to every time. gladys looking for a moment of reprieve just before the sun comes up. a moment to rest her weary bones.

and alice doesn’t mind, not really. she can admire gladys’ thick black coat, scratch her sharp nails against skin. try to fight a smile at the soft sounds that come from the wolf as gladys closes her eyes and leans in to the touch. 

they fall asleep like that, on the forest floor. alice’s hand tucked comfortingly in gladys’ fur, gladys laying peacefully on her lap.

well, peaceful until she’s woken up by a scream and a shove. 

“did you change back on top of me?!” alice’s shrill voice echos through the trees. 

gladys looks down at her own naked human form, looks back to alice and all the gore covering her below the waist. gladys laughs. “sorry. must’ve slept through it.”

“how do you sleep through something like that?!”

“you did too, dollface,” gladys retorts as she stands up, stretches. the bones her back crack. “you sleep like the dead.” she can’t help herself. the look alice gives her could kill. “don’t worry about it,” gladys waves off. “you can clean up at mine. get you a spare change of clothes.”

alice recoils at the thought of having to put on gladys’ secondhand denim. “i’d rather smell like dead dog the rest of the day.”

gladys shrugs, grabs the clothes alice brought for her as she heads off. “suit yourself. have a nice trip back to suburbia looking like a murder victim.”

alice spins around to watch her leave. “are you not even going to bother to get dressed?” gladys waves her off without looking back. “animal,” alice mutters under her breath.

“i heard that!” gladys calls back, a trace of humor in her voice. “and stop staring at my ass!”

alice groans louder than necessary for gladys to be able to hear, and looks away. she was not staring.


	3. carry me - gladys/fp

the credits are rolling on the movie they’re watching. texas chain saw massacre. a classic. but fp’s been snoring ever since grandpa tried clubbing sally at dinner, and gladys just let him because he’s been working longer hours these days and it’s finally catching up to him.

but the movie’s over, and it’s time for bed, and she really doesn’t feel like sleeping on the couch, so.

she can’t get up. because her husband’s got her in a vice grip where she lays between his legs. and fp’s clingy as all hell when he sleeps, so this is hardly her first experience with it. she knows exactly what to do.

a quick elbow to his side and fp’s body jolts enough to loosen his grip and set gladys free. 

“c’mon. we’re going to bed,” she tells him, standing up and looming over his still half asleep figure.

fp rolls over onto his side, stuffing his face into the pillow as he reaches out for his wife’s hand. “stay here. sleep.”

“i’m not sleeping on the couch when we’ve got a perfectly good be upstairs. now get up before i leave your ass down here.” she tugs his hand, but he still won’t move.

“carry me,” he says, eyes still closed and face smushed against the small square pillow. 

“i am not carrying you!”

“c’mon, g. pleeaaseee.”

and gladys is a strong-willed woman, she is. takes pride in it, in fact. but sometimes fp puts this little pout on his face and something in her breaks. and it’s been like this since high school. dammit if she knows why. there’s something that’s just so… cute about him sometimes. it really gets on her nerves.

“you’re such a pain in my ass,” she says, rolling her eyes. she bends down, takes hold of his arm and somehow manages to get his entire grown man self over her shoulder, which he clearly wasn’t expecting if his reaction is anything to go by.

“what the fuck, gladys!” but he’s laughing. suddenly wide awake and trying to find anything nearby to grab on to.

admittedly, gladys may have bitten off more than she can chew with this one, she realizes as she stumbles and wobbles towards the stairs with her husband on her shoulder. but she’s nothing if not determined. “you wanted me to carry you. i’m carrying you.” she makes it about three steps up before she’s falling sideways, has to stretch her arm out to catch herself on the wall. but she stays upright. fp’s laughing harder, which in turn makes her let out an unexpected snort, and her hand flies up to her face to try and muffle the noise. “shut up, you’re gonna wake the kids!”

it’s a process to make it to the bedroom, but they finally do. gladys flops fp down onto the bed and they’re both still giddy.

“i can’t believe you actually carried me.”

“yeah well, don’t get used to it,” she says, climbing on top of his lap and settling down. “was just asserting my dominance.”

“ooh. i like that,” fp smiles, runs his hands up her thighs, under the hem of the flannel (his flannel) she’s wearing.

“oh well now look who’s awake.” fp’s smile sharpens. his hands ghosting up higher, higher. gladys lets out a fake, exaggerated yawn. says, “but, ya know, i’m just so tired now…” 

“aw, come on, g!”

“no, really. i’m just so exhausted all of a sudden…” she says around another yawn, but she’s smiling as she moves to get off her husband’s lap.

fp’s arm go up around her waist, keep her in a tight hold as he flips them around so he’s on top, tells her “i’ll wake you up real quick,” as gladys playfully fights him off, fp tickling her sides and peppering kisses along her neck and cheeks, and they both dissolve into a fit of laughter that they’re sure will wake the whole house up.


	4. You need to stop running. - fred/fp

there’s a note in his locker: bleachers. lunch.

there’s no name, but fred recognizes the chicken scratch instantly.

things have been weird between him and fp ever since ascension night, ever since their principal turned up dead in a broom closet. ever since fred’s dad-

fred’s been all fucked up. a hollow shell of who he was just a week ago, but he’s not the only one. everyone’s been weird, on edge, paranoid. complete personality shifts have taken place, but fred and fp still had each other… kind of.

fred can’t say fp hasn’t been there for him, because he has. but there’s moments that have come more often than not where he’s not there. and fred only recognizes it because it’s the same headspace he’s been in. he’s too familiar with that look of detachment because he’s seen it in the mirror every day since-

but they’ve been getting by. or so fred thought. which is why this meeting doesn’t seem abnormal to him, doesn’t even think twice about it until he’s coming up to the bleachers, spots fp in black instead of his usual blue and yellow. fred’s stomach immediately sinks to his knees.

“what is that?”

and fp may not always be quick on the uptake, but he knows exactly what fred’s referring to now. “we need to talk.”

“this is a joke, right?” fred asks, disbelieving. he grabs fp’s shoulder, turns him around hoping, praying, not to find a giant snake patch. no such luck. “take it off.”

“fred.” fp’s not even putting up a fight. he looks bone tired, all pale and dark, sunken eyes. 

but fred’s the polar opposite right now. all wound up and ready to go. on the verge of hysteria because this is the last fucking thing he needs in his life right now, his best friend joining a gang that fred knows he wants no part of, because they’ve had countless conversations about it. conversations consisting of fp crying on his shoulder because his dad kept pushing and pushing.

but fp stayed resilient. and fred worried about a lot of shit when it came to his best friend. but the one thing he never had to worry about was that. until now. 

“no! no, fp! you said-”

“i said a lot of shit, alright!” fp breaks his facade, voice hollering and echoing against the underside of the bleachers, and he takes a second to compose himself. “things are different now. the world’s a fucked up place, fred. is it really so bad to want a little help?”

“what about me?” fred’s eyes are shining with tears. he splays his arms out, shrugs his shoulders. “you have me.”

fp stays silent, his mouth suddenly too dry and his tongue too thick in his mouth. he has to look away, because he can’t look at fred when he says what’s coming next, the very reason he called this little meeting in the first place. “yeah, about that…” he kicks dirt with the toe of his boot, scratches the back of his neck as he looks anywhere except at the boy in front of him. “i don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other anymore.”

fred feels like he’s gonna throw up. he didn’t hear fp right. he couldn’t have. but he’s too scared to ask for clarification. can’t bare the thought of having to hear that again. “what are you doing?” his voice comes out barely above a whisper. and fp still won’t look at him. so fred gets in his face. takes the palms of his hands and shoves fp back with everything he has. “why? why now?!”

fp doesn’t even fight him. just lets himself be pushed and pushed until his back hits the metal bars that hold the bleachers up. he deserves this, he knows. but it’s better if fred hates him anyway. “it was never gonna work, alright! this,” he waves a finger between the two of them, “whatever it is. our time’s up. it’s done.”

“that’s bullshit and you know it.” fred’s freely crying now, eyes rimmed red and nose running. 

his entire world is falling apart and suddenly he can’t fucking breathe. fp was the last shred of normalcy he had and the fact that he can just give this up like it’s nothing… he crouches down, head between his knees just trying to make the world stop spinning for two fucking seconds. his heart’s pounding in his ears, fingers pulling at his hair and he can’t fucking breathe.

“fred. fred!” fred hears his name being called like he’s underwater, all distant and muffled. “are you okay?”

it’s not until he feels a hand on his shoulder that he finally reacts, slaps fp away from him as he stands up. “no. i’m not fucking okay! i just went through the worst shit of my life and i need my best friend, and you’re fucking… breaking up with me!”

fp’s head whips around, looking all over the place to make sure no one’s overheard. “keep your voice down! look, i’m sor-”

“why now? why are you doing this to me now?”

fp doesn’t have an answer. not a real one, anyway. he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, suddenly looking much smaller and far more scared than he did at the beginning of this. “it’s what’s best…”

“bullshit,” fred spits. he crowds up into fp’s space, jabs his chest with a pointed finger. “you’re just a coward. when shit gets too complicated, there you go. off on your way. you need to stop running. face your shit. but i’m done chasing you.”

fp opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. this is what he wanted after all, wasn’t it? there was no coming out of this without fred hating him. maybe the deeper the wound, the better. fred won’t be tempted to come back this time.

when a few more seconds of silence pass by fred gives up, shakes his head, and turns his back, walking away.

“fred!” fp calls out, feet stuck in place, but he has to say something. by some miracle fred turns around, shoulders hanging heavy as he sighs and waits. “i just want you to be happy.” and while that’s true, fp knows as soon as the words leave his mouth that they don’t matter. not after what he’s just done. but if fred can just walk away knowing that…

fred laughs, no trace of any real humor. throws his hands up and says “what good does that do me?”

fred turns his back again, walking away this time for good. and it’s not until he’s gone that fp feels the first tear fall.


	5. Do you need that much candy? - fred/fp

fred had been thinking about the bag of christmas tree reese’s in his kitchen all day. work had been hectic, a new problem seemingly arising every 5 minutes, and by midday all he wanted to do was go home and gorge on some chocolate and peanut buttery treats.

but that plan’s been foiled. because as he’s rummaging through every cabinet and drawer in the kitchen, there are no reese’s to be found. and that doesn’t make a damn lick of sense considering he just bought a whole bag yesterday.

“fp!” he shouts, “have you seen the-” he freezes when he gets to the living room, finds his husband sprawled out on the couch with his hands hidden behind his back, mouth stuffed and chocolate smeared at the corners. “whatchu got there?”

fp swallows, eyes wide. “nothing…”

“lemme see.” fred sticks his hand out, makes a gimme motion as he approaches.

“no.”

“fp, let me see.”

“no, fred. just. let me ex-” 

fp’s cut off by fred jumping on top of him and soon the two dissolve into a wrestling match on the couch; fred trying to reach behind fp’s back and fp doing his best to keep his shame to himself.

fred wins out in the end, grabbing hold of the near empty bag of candy and holding it out to the side like evidence as he remains seated on his husband’s lap. “really, fp? the whole bag? do you need that much candy?”

“it’s not the whole bag,” fp blushes. “there’s like… 3 left.”

fred rolls his eyes, notices the state of the couch and is suddenly suspicious. “where’re the wrappers?”

“what wrappers?” fp’s terrible at playing innocent. 

“fp, i swear to god, if the wrappers are under the cushions…”

“alright, alright!” fp throws his hands up in surrender. “i’ll clean them up!”

“and you’re getting me more reese’s.” fred gets off fp to let him up. three pieces of chocolate is hardly gonna satisfy him. he won’t openly admit to being as bad as fp when it comes to devouring candy, but…

“what, right now?” fp asks incredulously, staring up at fred. 

“yes, right now. you owe me.”

fp gets up, huffing and puffing the entire time like a child. “and here i thought marriage was about sharing.

“there’s a difference between sharing and you inhaling food like a human garbage disposal,” fred teases, smile tugging at his lips so fp knows he’s not actually mad. not entirely, anyway. he licks his thumb, swipes at the corners of fp’s mouth to clean him up and fp lightens up, too, arms snaking around fred’s waist.

“i could always make it up to you later…” fp offers, voice low and suggestive as he leans in to close the gap between his and fred’s lips.

“oh, you will,” fred smirks, leans in enough for their mouths to brush before he put his hand to fp’s chest, stops him in his tracks. “by going to the store and getting me more reese’s.”

fp groans as fred laughs, dislodging himself from fp’s arms and pushing him towards the door.

“that’s just… you’re a mean person, freddie.” 

“yeah, yeah. just consider it payback.”


	6. carry me - fred/fp

Fred’s drunk. Drunker than FP’s ever seen him. Hermione dumped him for like, the fifth time that month or something. FP can’t keep track with their whole on-again-off-again schtick. He just knows every time Hermione entered Fred’s eyesight at the party he’d grab the nearest alcoholic beverage around and down it like water.

FP figured enough was enough when he caught Fred puking in the bushes on the Mantle’s front lawn, almost stumbling forward and falling into it had FP not grabbed him in time. 

And through some miracle they’ve made it back to Fred’s, despite Fred barely being able to keep himself upright and complaining the entire way about how he feels like shit. 

But they’ve made it. Stumbling in through the front door with more noise than FP would have liked. It’s 2 am. Fred’s parents are long asleep and the last thing FP wants right now is to confront a sleep deprived Artie Andrews while his son’s sneaking home drunk as a skunk.

They’re standing at the base of the stairs, Fred’s arm slung around FP’s shoulders and his face buried in the crook of FP’s neck… which FP doesn’t want to think about. He’s trying very hard not to think about it and is instead focusing on whether or not the trip to Fred’s room is doable (friggen attic bedroom… two flights of stairs…) or if he should just toss Fred on the couch and call it a night. 

But if Fred’s parents wake up tomorrow morning to find their son passed out on the couch it probably won’t be a good scene for Fred, and for as much as FP likes to live selfishly… he can’t do it to his best friend. He has some allegiances.

So he holds on to Fred tighter, whispers “Think you can make it, Freddie?” 

Fred groans, and FP hopes to God it only sounds loud because of the proximity to his ear. He loops both arms around FP’s neck now, says “Carry me,” against FP’s neck, lips brushing against skin that sends a shiver down FP’s spine.

He could kill Fred right now, he really could, because the alternative sure as hell isn’t an option. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he laments more to himself than anything.

“Pleeaaseee,” Fred begs, whines, really, and FP rolls his eyes, huffing out a sigh of resignation before dipping down to hook his arm under Fred’s knees to hoist him up in a bridal carry.

Fred catches the giggles halfway to his room, has to bury his face in FP’s shirt to muffle the sound, and FP’s feeling that urge again, the one he has to play off as annoyance because yeah, Artie could wake up and kick his ass and ban him from ever stepping foot in the Andrews’ house again, but Fred’s laughter is the sweetest thing FP’s ever heard, and maybe it’d be worth getting his ass thrown out just to hear another second of it.

They make it to Fred’s room without incident, shockingly enough. FP says about ten silent hail Mary’s as he plops Fred down onto his bed. “Alright, c’mere big guy.” He gets Fred on to his side near the edge of the bed, looks around until he finds a waste bin to put on the floor incase Fred gets sick in the middle of the night.

He moves to the end of the bed to start undoing Fred’s shoes, doesn’t pause even as Fred mumbles “You’re my best friend, F.”

“Yeah, I better be after tonight.”

“‘m serious.” Fred snuggles further into his pillow, half his face smushed in the process. “You’re my favorite person.”

FP tosses Fred’s shoes aside, his heart stopping at the admission. He shouldn’t read too much into it. He knows that. Fred’s just drunk and talking nonsense. Won’t even remember any of this in the morning. “What about Hermione?” And if it comes out a little more bitter than FP would’ve liked… well, Fred won’t remember that either.

“Hermione shermimone.”

FP has to stifle a laugh at that one. God, Fred’s cute when he’s drunk.

“It’s you. It’s always you.”

FP’s smile drops. Because this isn’t… but God, he wishes it was. Because FP’s been in love with his best friend since the day they met, and Fred’s been chasing skirts since the day they met. And FP knows the best he can ever hope for is this friendship they’ve built. And he’s made peace with that. But then Fred says shit like this to him and there’s almost a glimmer of hope…

FP should leave. He should’ve left Fred downstairs and hauled ass back home like he wanted to. But hindsight’s 20/20 and FP’s never been very good at making the right judgement calls to begin with.

FP should leave. But Fred’s got his arms stretched out in front of him, making grabby hands like he wants FP to come over. And FP makes bad decision after bad decision so… He takes a seat on the edge of the bed beside Fred.

The room’s dark save for the small glow from the streetlamp outside that doesn’t really do much. FP’s grateful, because he’s sure his face betrays every bit of nervousness he’s feeling right now, and the last thing he wants is for Fred to notice.

Fred takes FP’s hand, snuggles it close to chest like this is all normal, like it’s not making FP’s heart race a million miles a minute. He closes his eyes, content smile on his lips and says “Wanna know a secret?”

And FP does. And he doesn’t. Doesn’t know where the hell this is leading, but Fred’s holding his hand prisoner, and FP doesn’t really mind even though he knows coming morning none of this will mean anything. Doesn’t mean anything now except to him.

He swallows down the lump in his throat, says “Sure, buddy,” and waits.

Fred doesn’t say anything. And FP waits. Thinks maybe Fred’s lost his nerve. Thinks maybe Fred didn’t hear him. Thinks maybe he’s overthinking this entire situation and Fred never had anything important to say to begin with.

He’s about to say something, to bring Fred’s focus back, but the snoring starts. Tiny little noises indicating Fred’s completely passed the fuck out, and FP deflates. 

Maybe it’s for the best. Because FP’s sure he was getting too worked up over nothing. And it’s better in the long run to have Fred not say anything than to say something that completely crushes whatever minuscule hope FP allowed himself to have.

So FP takes his hand back, gentle so as not to wake his best friend. He reaches over Fred for the blanket, drapes it over him so he won’t get cold. 

He stands up, looks down at Fred’s sleeping figure and for a moment envisions himself leaning forward to swipe the hair off Fred’s forehead, to place a soft kiss to his temple. But FP doesn’t. Because that’s creepy and weird and the last fucking thing he needs is for Fred to wake up in the middle of it and freak out on him.

He’ll just go home and roll a joint, jerk off a couple times. The same shit he always does to get him through this stupid crush until the universe finally decides to have some mercy on him and let this shit go.

He heads over to the window, his usual escape route when he’s sneaking in and out of Fred’s room. He gets one leg outside and stops, straddling the windowsill as he looks back at Fred’s sleeping form. “You’re my favorite, too, Freddie.” And he knows this is the only time he’ll have the courage to utter those words, when he knows Fred can’t hear and say something back.

And in the morning everything will be back to normal, and tonight will just be a memory for FP to keep.


	7. sloppy coked out threesome -fred/hiram/fp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this one.... involves cocaine and double penetration lmfao

“what the hell is this?”

fp’s bent over the mahogany desk in hiram lodge’s bedroom, half a line of coke already up his nose when the unmistakeable sound of fred andrews’ voice interrupts the thump thump thumping from the music bellowing from downstairs. 

“jesus christ, i thought you locked the door,” hiram chastises as he gets up from his seat.

“it’s your room. the fuck am i gonna lock the door for?” fp straightens up, wipes the powder off his nose.

hiram’s up on his feet, shoving past fred and pushing him further into the room before peaking his head out into the hallway to make sure no one’s spying then closing the door and locking it. 

“fp, what are you doing in hiram’s room? is that cocaine?!” fred’s eyes are practically bulging out of his head and hiram can’t help but laugh as he heads back over to his desk.

“your evangelical suburban morality is adorable, andrews.” hiram plops down into his seat, kicks his legs up onto the wood like this is just tuesday for him. 

“it’s good shit, freddie,” is all the explanation fp offers. like that’s supposed to be enough. “try some.”

fred’s eyes somehow manage to get even wider. hiram can’t contain his laughter. “are you out of your mind?” fred looks over fp’s shoulder for a second to glare at him before returning his attention back to his best friend. “this is serious shit, fp!”

it’s a moot point. fp’s already too wrapped up in his high to give a shit. probably wouldn’t even if was sober anyway. 

“come on, baby,” fp purrs, licking his lips as he slinks his way towards fred. he puts one hand on fred’s side, places the other over the zipper of fred’s jeans. “i’ll make it worth your while,” he whispers against fred’s throat, tongue darting out to lick the skin as his hand cups fred through the denim. 

fred lets out a strangled moan despite himself, and hiram responds with a groan. “you two are disgusting.”

“and you’re jealous,” fp shoots back as he takes fred’s hand, drags him over to the desk where there’s a freshly cut line of white powder sitting atop the tiny glass mirror. “just one little line. and if you hate it i promise i’ll never bring it up again.”

fp’s got this starry eyed look. a look that generally only comes out when he’s fucked up. too far gone to be haunted by black clouds that infest his sober mind. he’s here, but he’s not. lost in some paradise fred’s been too afraid to go to. but something feels different in this room. maybe it’s the fact hiram’s only a few feet away, staring at him. teasing him. taunting him without a word. a dare. a challenge. good ol’ upstanding fred would never. prove me wrong. 

fp leans in again, starts making work of fred’s neck while fred and hiram and locked in a silent showdown. something about that smug bastard brings out the worst in him. fred andrews never would have thought himself the type to give in to peer pressure and snort fucking cocaine, but he knows if he walks away now he’ll never hear the end of it. it’ll be worth it enough to give hiram one less thing to run his mouth about. 

fred licks his lips, takes fp’s face in his hands and pulls him back so they’re eye to eye. an illusion of control that he feels completely devoid of. “what’re you gonna do for me?”

eyes shining brighter, fp silently falls to his knees, wasting no time undoing fred’s belt and jeans. 

hiram shamelessly takes in the show. palms himself over his slacks as he watches the almost delicate way fp’s fingers pull fred out of his boxers. how hungry he looks before taking fred into his mouth.

mouth falling slack, fred takes in a short breath as he relishes in the wet heat of fp’s mouth. his hands find fp’s hair, curl into the thickness of it for something to hold on, and when his eyes fall shut he almost forgets they’re not the only two in the room…

but then there’s an obnoxious cough to his side that breaks the peace, and when fred’s eyes shoot open to glare he sees hiram slowly pushing the mirror towards him on the desk.

oh, right. that. 

reluctantly, fred signals for fp to stop. he looks confused at first, but then hiram’s saying “we don’t have all night, andrews” and fp gets it. 

“don’t be such an asshole,” fp warns as he gets back up to his feet, wipes the corners of his mouth before reaching out for the glass square and carefully holding it up to fred’s face. “it’ll be good,” he says to fred, voice softer and gentle, enhanced by the hand he brings up to smooth over fred’s hair. “promise.”

fred’s not so sure about that, but between fp’s encouragement and hiram’s dare he makes up his mind. 

he’s seen plenty of people snort coke in the movies, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the burn in his nostrils as he inhales the powder. he immediately grabs for his nose, pinching it closed in an attempt to dull the aching he feels, and he can hear hiram laughing somewhere behind him.

“fucking amateur.”

fred’s other hand shoots up to flip him the bird. fp reaches out for it, holds it between his own while he asks “’s good, right?”

“i don’t know. i don’t-” fred pauses, feels a little disoriented. “i don’t feel anything.”

fp smiles, raises his eyebrows like he’s in on a secret. “you will. c’mere.” then he’s pulling fred towards hiram’s bed, spins them around so he can push fred down on top of it.

he doesn’t waste any time stripping off his clothes, and as he climbs atop fred’s lap fred can’t help but wonder if he’s entered some alternate dimension. 

“the hell are you doing?” hiram chirps up. “that’s my bed!”

as much as fred’s loathe to admit it, hiram’s right. not that it’s ever stopped he and fp from sneaking around before at one of hiram’s parties just to fool around on his bed… he just generally wasn’t around to see it. it’s a little surreal to have him standing a few feet away, fp apparently too high to have any inhibitions. 

“well then either throw us out or join in. or sit there and watch. i don’t care,” fp says, eyes never once venturing from fred’s. he reaches down to tug at fred’s shirt, pulls it up and over his head and fred, for his part, just lets him. he thinks the drugs might finally be kicking in and there’s too much going on for his brain to even process.

but he’s starting to feel good. like. really fucking good.

fp’s hands are all over him while he peppers opened mouthed kisses across fred’s chest and all fred can think about is how he doesn’t want fp to stop. 

like he’s reading his mind, fp looks up at fred with an eyebrow raised in question, like he knows that’s fred’s high is finally hitting, and all fred can give in response is a hand in fp’s hair, pushing his face down trying to chase more of that feeling. 

fp must get it, because fred can feel him smiling. right before he flicks his tongue over fred’s nipple, and fred gasps, cock filling up in his jeans. 

fp looks up at fred with a smirk, rolls his hip to elicit a moan from fred and he looks so goddamn pleased with himself that it just turns fred on even more. 

“where do you keep your lube, lodge?” fp asks as he reaches for the bedside table and starts rummaging through drawers. let’s out a pleased little noise when fred’s hand reaches up to palm his ass.

hiram scoffs, straightening up from doing a last line of coke. “what makes you think i have lube?”

both fred and fp fix him with a blank stare, like he’s just said the stupidest phrase of the night. hiram rolls his eyes. “bottom drawer.”

“who keeps lube in the bottom drawer?” fp mumbles under his breath, but reaches for it anyway. 

once he has it he sits upright, popping the cap open but pauses before he continues. “you wanna do the honors or should i?” his question directed at fred.

fred rubs his hands up and down the toned muscles of fp’s thighs, marvels at the thickness of them trapping him before settling his hands on fp’s hips and answers, “you do it,” voice low and dripping with arousal. “wanna watch.”

a shiver shoots up fp’s spine and he coats his fingers nice and slick. he keeps his eyes locked on fred’s as he reaches behind himself, slips one, then two fingers inside as he bites back a moan. he steadies himself with his other hand on fred’s chest while he fucks himself on his fingers, fred’s tight grip on his hips controlling the pace and only adding to the pleasure fp feels coursing through his veins.

all the while hiram stands back at his desk and lights a cigarette, itching to get involved in the action. he takes a few puffs, watches fp work a third finger inside himself, before he stubs the cigarette out in his ashtray and starts unbuttoning his shirt. he tosses it to the side as he gets on the bed, positions himself behind fp and places a kiss to his neck.

hiram couldn’t give two shits about fp, has never considered fp jones to be anywhere in the ballpark of his type, but it’s worth it enough to see the look on fred’s face, his eyes squinting in anger and definitely more than a little bit of jealousy. 

“fuck,” fp whimpers. the feeling of being so naked and vulnerable and surrounded is almost too much. his cock twitches and he thinks he could come right then and there just from how overwhelmed he feels. “want you both to fuck me,” he admits, just the thought of it almost being too much to handle.

“what?” fred asks, disbelieving. 

hiram lets out a low chuckle against fp’s shoulder. “what’s the matter, freddie? scared your boytoy’s not gonna want anything to do with you once he’s had me?”

fred could almost laugh at that. he knows fp too well, is secure with his place in fp’s life. knows there’s no world where fp would put hiram fucking lodge above him. that’s not what bothers him. it’s this sudden possessiveness he’s feeling. his mind chanting mine, mine, mine as he looks at fp. he doesn’t want to share.

fp leans down, mouths along fred’s jaw before reaching his lips, kissing him long and deep. “just focus on me,” he whispers against fred’s lips, and fred has a hard time coming up with reasons to tell him no.

fp reaches down between them to pull fred out of his jeans, gets enough lube on his hand to stroke fred til he’s wet and hard enough to replace fp’s fingers. then he’s positioning fred’s cock at his entrance and slowly sinks down til he’s full. 

fred thinks he gets it now, what fp was saying before. sex with him was always good, but there’s something fucking mind-blowing about what’s happening now. fred’s whole body feels on fire in the best way, like he’s feeling more of everything. he feels like he’s about to burst out of skin with every roll of fp’s hips and for a brief second wonders if he could die from this. thinks it’d be the best way to go.

hiram slides a knuckle down fp’s spine, takes a certain delight in hearing the other boy keen. “someone’s needy…”

fred swears he’s actually seeing red. but he’s trying to be a good sport if only for fp’s sake, bites his tongue to keep himself from telling hiram to shut the fuck up, uses that energy to thrust harder up into fp’s heat.

hiram settles a hand on fp’s hip, squeezes tight to signal him to slow down. his hand slides to the small of fp’s back and pushes, coaxing him to lean forward. fp takes the opportunity to kiss fred, something slow and lazy and maybe with a little too much tongue, but fred doesn’t mind. just reaches up to curl his fingers into fp’s hair and hold him close. 

there’s a sudden pressure. fp’s gasping into fred’s mouth and it takes a second for fred to register that he can feel hiram’s fingers alongside his cock inside fp. 

fred pulls back just enough to get a look at fp’s face, sees that it’s twisted and contorted into what fred can only assume is a look of pain and he’s ready to physically kick hiram off the bed, but then something in fp’s face settles, like he was just adjusting to the new sensation, and there’s no mistaking that look now. fred doesn’t think he’s ever seen fp looked so thoroughly fucked out and that pang of jealousy starts creeping back in. 

“you ready?” hiram asks. fp bites his lip, nods his head.

fred cups fp’s cheek, rubs his thumb gently across smooth skin and watches fp smile, turn his head enough to kiss fred’s palm. and suddenly fred’s not feeling so jealous anymore. because hiram doesn’t get to have this. no matter what, this version of fp is reserved for fred and fred alone, and that makes him feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in the world. 

sucking in a breath, fp braces himself for what comes next. he can hear hiram undoing his zipper, hears the squelching of lube as hiram strokes himself before slowly sliding his cock in alongside fred’s. 

it’s a tight fit. just shy of being too fucking much, and fp has to bite harder onto his lip, fist the pillow by fred’s head just to keep from crying out. but it’s fucking good. painful enough to still be pleasurable, just how he likes. he’s never felt this fucking full in his life and he almost comes from the mere thought of it, has to squeeze his cock to keep from blowing his load right then and there.

“you okay?” fred whispers for just fp to hear, and god fp’s in love with him. he buries his face in fred’s neck and nods. fred wraps his arms around fp’s back and holds him tighter. 

it’s a touching moment, really. some real hallmark shit if hiram says so himself. but he’s not invested in that right now, his only thoughts being wanting to get off. he’s got a bruising grip on fp’s hips as he starts to fuck him. “so fucking tight,” he breathes out.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” fred whispers into fp’s ear, slips a hand between their bodies so he can get to fp’s dick. 

the high pitched whine that slips from fp’s mouth would almost be embarrassing if he wasn’t in fucking heaven right now. he’ll make whatever sounds he damn well pleases so long as he gets to stay in this moment. 

but he knows he can’t last much longer. a few strokes of fred’s hand and fp’s coming undone, hands white-knuckling the pillow as he pants heavily against fred’s neck. his body feels fucking spent, can’t even feel his limbs. it’s like he’s putty. 

after a few more thrusts hiram pulls out and starts jerking himself off. fred takes the opportunity to start fucking into fp again, hands traveling down to grab at the meat of fp’s ass. 

it’s enough of a show that hiram’s coming over his fist and onto to fp’s ass, watches him clench around fred’s cock and that must do it for fred, too.

fred lets out a moan, his nails digging in to fp’s skin hard enough that he’s sure there’ll be marks left, and he rides out his own orgasm. 

fp leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses on his neck before using delicate fingers against fred’s jaw to turn his head so their mouths meet. their kisses are slow, lazy. the kind of thing you could get lost for hours in.

but then the bed is squeaking as hiram gets off, interrupting their daze as hiram does up his pants and says “well that was fun. we should do it again some time.” he doesn’t sound like that’s something he actually wants to do, and that’s fine by fred. “now get out of here.”

“jesus you’re pushy,” fp complains as he rolls off fred and onto his back. he still doesn’t think he has enough energy to move any further. 

“and you’re getting cum on my sheets, get the fuck up.”

“wouldn’t be the first time,” fp mumbles under his breath and fred laughs. hiram doesn’t hear him. 

it’s a minute before fp gets up the strength to get his clothes back on, but once they’re both dressed he and fred don’t waste any more time in hiram lodge’s bedroom. 

the party rages on but they’ve had their fill, content enough to go back to fred’s and call it a night.


	8. Don’t you ever do that again! - fred/fp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones got suicide mention so reader beware

he’s woken up by the sound of tapping at his window. 

at first he just thinks it’s a dream, and then maybe the wind, until it sounds like whatever is hitting the glass is getting bigger and is followed by whispered yelling.

“wake the fuck up, fred! do not make me come up there!”

it’s alice. fred could recognize that shrill anywhere.

he groans, rolling over to look at his bedside clock. it’s 2 a.m. and fred has no idea what the hell could be so important that alice smith needs to risk waking the entire block up just to annoy him.

throwing the covers back, he trudges out of bed and over to the window, lifting it up with what feels like more effort than usually needed with the way his arms feel like jelly from barely being awake. “what the hell, al? do you know what time it is?” he can’t even keep his eyes open. 

“it’s fp.” 

it’s like he’s just been doused with ice water. two words is all it takes to bring fred to full attention. even with a sleep-addled brain fred knows alice coming to his house in the middle of the night because of fp doesn’t mean anything good. 

“alright. hold on,” is all he says before looking around and grabbing the first pair of pants he sees on the floor along with his rhs hoodie. he climbs out the window, shuffles down the side of his house and jumps the last few feet before rushing over to alice. “what happened?” he sounds panicked even to his own ears. 

alice starts walking - jogging, practically - to where fred can see a motorcycle parked on the curb. “i dont know. gladys and i were hanging out at the wyrm and fp comes in. his face was all…” she lets the sentence trail off. fred can fill in the gaps. “next thing we know he’s stealing a bottle of bourbon from the bar so gladys and i follow him out, try to get him to talk. we end up at the school and now he’s on the roof and we can’t get him down.”

“he’s on the roof?!” fred practically screams, and alice has to clamp her hand over his mouth before the entire neighborhood actually does wake up. 

“gladys is keeping an eye on him.” she removes her hand and grabs the helmet that’s hanging off the bike’s handlebars before shoving it to fred’s chest. “but you know he’ll only listen to you. come on.”

they waste no more time, fred hopping on behind alice and holding on tight as she speeds off into the night.

–

the second they reach the school parking lot he’s off the bike and on his feet, tossing the helmet to the side and looking up at the now ominous building. the lighting is for shit, but fred can just make out the silhouette of someone stumbling along the roof’s edge and his heart sinks. 

“f…” he breathes, more to himself than anything. he knows enough not to yell out. doesn’t want to surprise his best friend lest he lose his footing.

he doesn’t wait any longer, dashing into the school and not stopping until he reaches the roof. alice must still be trailing somewhere behind him but he can’t focus on that. all he sees is fp in front of him, walking along the roof’s ledge like some tightrope routine, albeit clumsier. 

fp’s got a half empty bottle in one hand, taking occasional swigs from it while he dangles his foot off the side of the building like he’s tempting fate. all fred wants to do is run over and grab him, bring him back to safety, hold him close. but he can’t. no sudden movements. 

fred takes his eyes off fp for just a moment to notice gladys nearby, hands in her hair, visibly stressed, trying to talk fp down. it’s obviously not working. 

she lets out a breath and turns around, finally noticing fred, and her body deflates. “oh thank fucking christ.” they meet each other halfway, fred’s eyes never leaving fp. “you gotta do something, fred. he’s not listening.” she looks back at fp briefly before returning her attention to fred. 

“what am i supposed to do?” fred asks, sounding all too much like a scared child. it’s exactly what he feels like. powerless. 

“he listens to you, fred,” gladys tries to reassure. reaches out and squeezes fred’s arm. 

fred takes a deep breath, nods his head like he actually believes he has this situation under control. he doesn’t. he’s in way over his head here. if they were dealing with anyone else he would’ve told alice from the start to get the police, or at the very least an adult. but this is fp, and if there’s one thing fred knows it’s that either of those things would just spook fp. get him pissed. send him off running. or worse. it’s a sobering thought realizing he really is the only one who can talk fp down.

he braces himself for the unexpected, not knowing which version of his best friend he’s going to get with so much alcohol in his system. he approaches slowly, like he’s trying to tame a lion in a cage.

“f…” he starts, voice quiet.

fp looks over his shoulder. there’s something shining in the reflection of the moonlight on his face. something wet. fred’s stomach twists when he remembers what alice said to him earlier. “that you, freddie?”

“yeah. yeah, buddy. it’s me.”

fp scoffs, takes another drink. “buddy,” he mocks. “that what we are now?”

he’s trying to pick a fight, fred knows. “why don’t you just come down so we can talk, huh?”

but fp doesn’t move. just finishes off his bottle and holds it out in front him, watches as he lets it fall from his hand and all the way down to the ground below. waits for the faint sound of glass shattering before he speaks. “shit, if we’re just buddies you should’ve told my dad. could’ve spared me an ass beating.”

it’s hardly the first time fred’s been made aware of forsythe senior’s particular brand of punishment, the hell he likes to unleash on his son, but it never gets any easier to swallow. he had tried in the beginning to get fp to tell somebody, begged him, really, but he never would. too afraid of ending up lost in the system. too afraid of what his dad would do if shit didn’t pan out. fp’s entire life seemed to be ruled by fear.

“fp, please. just-”

“fuck off, fred!”

fp stumbles from the force of his yelling, too much booze in his system to keep him steady, and there’s a moment where fred thinks this is it. he can hear a gasp from the girls behind him as he’s lunging forward to grab fp. but fp rights himself on his own, and fred feels like he’s about to keel over from the heart attack he’s just almost had. 

but it lights a fire in him. “ok, you know what?” it’s reckless and stupid but he’s climbing up to stand next to fp. hears alice in the back yelling “are you fucking crazy?!” but ignores her. 

even fp’s eyes are blown wide as he turns his head to look at his new company. it’s the first time fred’s really able to get a look at the damage done. it’s bad. really bad. but he can’t focus on that right now. 

“the fuck are you doing?” fp asks.

fred shrugs his shoulders, trying to be as nonchalant as he can with his heart pounding in his chest. it’s not so much that he’s afraid of heights…. he’d just rather not be standing on the edge of a roof without a safety net below. “you jump, i jump.”

“jesus christ, fred. i wasn’t gonna jump.”

“you could’ve fooled me!”

“i wasn’t! i just… don’t care if i fall.”

“well i care!” fred feels like he’s on the verge of hysterics. maybe he’s already there. 

“well i didn’t ask you to!”

“that’s too damn bad!” he and fp have had their share of stupid fights in the past but this…. this has got to take the fucking cake. “one of these days you’re gonna have to face the fact that people actually care about you.”

fp doesn’t say anything, just keeps his jaw clenched as he looks at the ground below him. 

“i care about you,” fred emphasizes. “and i think i’d lose my mind if anything happened to you.”

fp finally turns his gaze to fred, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “i’m real fucked up, fred,” he whispers, voice breaking with raw emotion. “can’t even get my own dad to love me.”

fred’s heart breaks for him, and he wants nothing more than to run down to the south side and lay into senior; kicking and punching and wailing about how he could do this to his son. “screw your dad,” is what he settles on. he reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind fp’s ear, let’s his hand linger there. “i don’t know how to make things better for you, but i’m here. and i’ll always be here. for as long as you need me.”

fp sniffs, looks away. “that’s a helluva job to take on. you sure it’s worth it?”

“yes,” fred responds without missing a beat. 

fp’s head snaps up, his eyes searching fred’s for any sign of deception, like this is just a ploy to talk fp down and the words are meaningless. they’re not, he knows. doesn’t make it any easier to believe.

fred hops off the ledge then, back onto the roof, holds his hand out to fp like a beggar. “come on, f.” he doesn’t need to say please. it’s written all over his face. “let me take you home.”

“i’m not going back there.”

“you know what i meant.”

fp looks down over the ledge again, contemplating the fall, before look back to fred, to his outstretched hand, to his safety line. he takes it, hopping down onto the roof and as soon as his feet hit fred’s pulling him into his arms and holding him like he’s trying to crush fp’s bones. the dam breaks and fp can’t stop the tears, burying his face against fred’s shoulder, sure he’ll leave bloody stains behind on the fabric of his hoodie. 

but fred doesn’t seem to care. he keeps holding fp impossibly closer, pressing his lips to fp’s hair and saying “don’t you ever do that again! you hear me? fucking scared the shit out of me.”

fp cries harder. keeps repeating he’s sorry, he’s sorry over and over.

fred pulls back, gentle cradles fp’s face in his hands, careful not to upset his wounds. “i fucking love you, you know that?” he says it with such determination, like he needs fp to know.

fp nods his head. he can’t even see fred’s face properly through his tears but he doesn’t need to. the sincerity is loud and clear. there’s no mistaking it. “take me home, freddie.” he sounds so small, so childlike. so vulnerable. 

fred nods his head before pulling fp into another hug, lips right to his ear. “yeah, baby. let’s go.”


	9. summer resort au - fred/fp

three days had passed since the andrews had checked in to the sunnyside resort, and fred has spent all of them fixated on the cute, albeit reserved, receptionist that had greeted them at the front desk. there was something mysterious about him, and sad. something fred couldn’t quite put his finger on. every time fred saw him around the pool or at dinner or walking around the grounds it was like there was this invisible barrier between him and the rest of world. even on the couple occasions fred witnessed girls trying to flirt with him, he’d play nice and go along with it, but it never seemed to reach his eyes. 

fred’s already spent far too much time wondering what it would be like to get something genuine out of him. it’s only been three days and he’s totally hung up on this guy. fp he remembers reading on his name tag. even his name was a mystery. 

it was bound to be a long summer at this rate, which is why he hatched up a plan that hopefully wouldn’t completely backfire. his parents had gone in to town to grab some essentials for their stay, leaving their bungalow empty for the afternoon. with a few hours of privacy ahead of him, fred headed to the front desk in the hopes of catching the object of his desire at work. 

he was in luck. as soon as he stepped foot in the building he could spot the familiar messy flop of dark brown hair behind the counter, face hidden behind a gameboy and legs propped up on the counter in a way that was definitely unprofessional, but somewhat charming in its complete disregard for authority. 

the closer fred got to the counter the more he could feel the butterflies in his stomach starting to go wild. he briefly thought about turning back - he would have gone completely unnoticed - but instead he took a deep breath and powered forward. 

“hey,” he said, going for casual. he waited for fp to look up before continuing, only a little disappointed when the other boy’s face showed no signs of being happy about the interruption. but fred was persistent. “i’m, uh- i’m fred. i’m staying in bungalow 8.” he pointed behind him as if the room were right there. fp’s face remained unchanging. “i just… um-” fred started shifting his feet, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. maybe this was a bad idea. “i think the ac’s broken? i was wondering if-”

“you want me to check,” fp finally spoke, his words coming out more as a statement than question. 

“yeah.” fred relaxes, if only a little bit, puts on a tentative smile. “could you?”

fp pushes off the counter, putting up a ‘be back soon’ sign before making his way around and joining fred. 

it’s a short enough walk to the room. fred tried to fill the silence ( “so you do a lot stuff around here, huh?” “yeah.” “so you have, like, multiple jobs?” “yep.”), but fp wasn’t much of a talker. it makes fred feel awkward, but fp seems totally unbothered, which just kind of makes fred feel worse. 

when they finally make it to the room fred takes a seat on the couch while fp heads straight to the ac unit. 

“you didn’t bring any tools,” fred notices.

“figured i’d see what the problem was first.”

fred nods his head even though fp’s back is still to him, mouths ‘oh’.

he doesn’t know how long his window of opportunity is here, especially considering there is no actual problem with the ac… which fp’s bound to find out about soon enough. so before he loses his nerve he blurts out “are you free tonight?” the same time fp turns around and says “i figured out what the problem is.”

fred slams his mouth shut, can already feel his face burning with embarrassment. “oh?” he manages to croak out. 

fp either didn’t hear his previous question or he’s chosen to ignore it. fred’s hoping for the former. “yeah. you didn’t turn it on.” 

there’s this look of amusement on fp’s face. not quite a smile but… something. fred doesn’t know what to make of it. he can’t tell if he’s being laughed with or at. “oh… right… of course…” he let’s out a nervous laugh. “that is definitely a problem.”

fp licks the corner of his mouth and raises his eyebrows like he’s agreeing before walking over to couch. 

fred stands up to meet him. it’s the first time he notices the other boy has about a few inches on him. fred has to look up to meet his eyes.

“did you drag me all the way out here just to ask me out?” fp asks, tone teasing but there’s something serious in his eyes.

fred feels himself clamming up. he could lie. say it was a joke. maybe get his ass kicked or his family thrown out for being a nuisance… “um… yes?”

a smile breaks out on fp’s face. or, more like a smirk. he looks down at the ground and laughs and fred can’t take his eyes off him. he’s beautiful. “have i entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” his voice sounds breathless even to his own ears. he feels like he’s running on autopilot.

when fp looks at fred again he’s still got that smirk, looking more open than fred’s seen him be for the three days he’s known him. “you seem surprised.”

“i am. i mean, i think this is the first time i’ve seen it.”

“you been watching me, freddie?”

something about the nickname makes fred’s chest tighten. he wants to hear it again. although, if the guy thinks he’s a stalker that probably won’t happen. “no! no. i just-”

“what if i am free tonight?” fp interrupts. 

“i-” fred rubs the back of his neck, his face scrunching up in light shame. “-didn’t think that far ahead…”

fp laughs again, and fred thinks he could really get used that sound. might even be his favorite. “tell you what. meet me in the parking lot at 8 and i’ll show you a good time.”

fred has no idea what that means, but he wants to find out. “yeah. okay. 8 it is.”

fp nods his head before walking past fred to the door. he stops in the frame and turns around. “oh, and fred?”

fred spins around, eager to know what else fp could want. “yeah?”

“next time you want to ask me out, you can just ask me.”

if fred wasn’t red before he definitely is now. “right…. noted.”

fp lets out a small chuckle before he disappears out the door.

fred sinks back down to the couch, hands covering his face as he lets out something between a groan and a squeal. maybe this wasn’t his most suave attempt at getting a date, but… he got it. so he’ll count it as a win.


	10. I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified. - fred/fp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a scene i wrote based on chapter 4 of bewareoftrips fic "nothing wrong with a good head start" (idk how to link things on here but i trust you know how to look things up)

the tension’s been thick between them the entire walk to the river, a heavy silence filling the air even as they walk along the shore now. their formal clothes are disheveled; shirts unbuttoned and untucked, ties loose, fred’s sport coat is dangling off his finger, tossed over his shoulder. they both know the conversation they need to have, but neither of them want to be the first to start it. it’s been like all summer, skirting around talking about anything important while they had whatever it was they had. and that was part of the problem. there was never a label to it. they were constantly stuck in this weird grey area, and maybe that was fine in the beginning, but things were too muddled now.

fp takes a look at the water, watches the way the moonlight reflects off the surface, and let’s out a breath. “well, you wanted to talk. talk.” he keeps his hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to hide the way his fingers keep flexing with nervous energy. 

“seemed like you were the one with a lot on your mind,” is fred’s response.

fp tosses his head back, laughs something mean and bitter. “unbelievable. are we really gonna keep tossing this ball back and forth?”

fred stops in his tracks, stares at fp’s back. “what the hell do you want from me, fp?” his arm falls to his side, his coat resting in the dirt. “all i get from you are mixed signals. you come to my bed to have your fun, just to tell me that it can’t mean anything, you leave, and we’re right back to the same shit the next day. and then the second i get involved with anyone else you turn into a jealous girlfriend.”

“oh, fuck you!” fp yells as he whips around to face the other boy. “hermione comes back and you can’t wait to toss me out with the trash. i have every right to be pissed!”

“i did not toss you out!”

“that’s bullshit and you know it! and the worst part is hermione doesn’t even give a shit! she’s already got you and that hiram douchebag fighting over her-”

“hermione doesn’t even like us fighting over her!” fred interrupts.

fp’s eyes go wide, not believing what he’s hearing. “you are so far up her ass you can’t even see what’s in front of you.” he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“how am i supposed to know what’s in front of me when you can’t even tell me how you feel?”

and this is what it came down to. this is what they were here for. 

fp knew he had two options in front of him. he could run away scared like he always did, avoiding the truth of his feelings, or…

with a new sense of purpose he marched over to fred, taking his face in his hands and pulled him in to a kiss hard enough to knock the wind out of both of them.

fred drops his coat to the ground, freeing his hands to reach up and grab fp’s wrists and hold them in place.

it’s brutal. fred doesn’t even know if he can call it a kiss. it’s more teeth than anything, fp biting at fred’s bottom lip before his tongue soothes over and slides into his mouth. it’s passionate. it’s… everything. 

the two stand there breathing each other in, mouths still connected, and fred can swear he hears the faintest whine from fp before he’s pulling away, resting their foreheads together.

fp’s breathing heavy, they both are, and he won’t open his eyes, keeps them squeezed shut like he’s too afraid to face reality. “i think i’m in love with you,” he finally whispers, and if fred weren’t standing so close he doesn’t think he’d have heard him. “and i’m terrified.”

fred’s breath catches. he feels weightless, like if fp weren’t holding him right now he’d drift up towards the heavens. but there’s an unmistakeable pain behind fp’s words that can’t go ignored. fred removes his hands from fp’s wrists, slides them over fp’s jaw back and forth before his fingers settle in fp’s dark curls. he rubs his thumbs over fp’s ears, watches the way fp relaxes even the tiniest bit at the affection, but he still won’t open his eyes. “f-”

“no, fred. i need you to listen.” his hands move to fred’s chest to push him away only to fist into the fabric of his shirt and keep him close. he finally gets the courage to open his eyes and the moonlight’s reflecting off the tears pooling at the corners. “i’m going crazy with it. this isn’t- this isn’t a casual thing for me, okay? i don’t do this. and it’s a fucking joke that you’re the only person i’ve ever given a shit about and we can’t even be together.”

“why do you keep saying that?”

“because it’s the truth! i can’t give you what hermione or any other girl can. that’s not how it works for guys like us, fred.”

“you think i give a shit?” fp clearly wasn’t expecting that response and the look on his face would’ve almost been comical in any other situation. “fp, i don’t care if we can’t go out on dates or hold hands down the halls at school or whatever. i want you. i love you. that’s it.”

“it’s too risky.”

“no. you know what you’re problem is? you’re afraid. but it’s not about your dad or anyone else finding out. you’re afraid of having anything good in your life. you’re afraid to let anybody in.”

“fuck you,” fp spits and shoves fred away, but fred catches his wrist and brings their bodies flushed together. 

“tell me i’m wrong.” fred looks straight into the dark pools of fp’s eyes, daring him to say so.

“we’re getting in way over our heads,” fp says, avoiding having to prove fred right. 

“i’m willing to give it a shot if you are.”

maybe it’s the moonlight. maybe it’s the way the water calmly laps against the riverbank that lulls fp into a sense of security. or maybe it’s just the way fred’s looking at him, so sure that they can make this thing work that fp has to think twice about questioning it. but he finds himself giving in. he nods his head once, staring into fred’s eyes as he says “i’m in,” reaching for the back of fred’s neck to pull him in for a softer kiss this time. the world around them is so quiet he can almost believe it’s just the two of them at all.


	11. Teach me how to play? - fred/fp

“you nervous about try-outs tomorrow?” fred asks from his spot beside fp, the two boys lying out in the grass of the andrews’ front lawn.

fp shrugs, tosses the football he’s holding up in the air. “not really.”

it’s a lie. fred can tell. knows his best friend too well to be fooled by the carefully crafted disinterest he tries to pass off as casual. 

and when fp turns his head, asks fred “you’ll be there, right?” fred knows the underlying meaning before he sees it in fp’s eyes. you’ll be there to cheer me on, right? so i won’t be alone?

“of course.”

“good.”

fp hugs the football to his chest, goes back to looking at the sky, but fred doesn’t take his eyes off him. 

it’s been like this for a while. maybe since as far back as their first meeting. fred could never stop looking. but it’s gotten so much worse recently. he knows it’s different, that what he’s feeling can’t be spoken out loud. but god, he watches fp sometimes and he aches. sometimes it’s so bad he doesn’t know how he’ll survive it.

but he swallows it down like he always does. because what other choice does he have?

“teach me how to play,” fred says, interrupting is own thoughts before he starts spiraling. 

fp looks at him again, face scrunched in adorable confusion, but he’s also amused. “what?”

“teach me how to play!” fred repeats, smile growing on his face as he reaches over and nudges the ball on fp’s chest.

“since when are you interested in football?”

“i’m not. i mean- i am. for you. not like for you but- you know.” fred’s rambling. he can feel his cheeks going hot but fp’s just looking at him like he can do or say no wrong. “i just figured if you’re gonna become some hotshot football player and, you know, as your best friend, i have to go to all your games… i should probably know what i’m watching. right?”

“you don’t have to go to all my games, freddie.”

fred’s almost offended at that. what kind of best friend does fp think he is? “of course i do.”

there’s a moment where they’re looking at each other - the sun setting, washing everything in an orange hue the autumn breeze rustling the hair that’s fallen over fp’s forehead that fred so desperately wants to touch - where fred thinks maybe fp’s looking at him the same way he looks at fp.

it’s over before fred has too much time to dwell on it, fp standing up and saying “alright. let’s see what you’ve got, andrews,” with a smug look on his face.

fred gets up, wipes the dirt off his jeans while he waits for further instruction.

“c’mere.” fp reaches out and grabs fred’s wrist, guides him over to the spot in front of him and hands fred the ball. fred tries to ignore his heartbeat speeding up. “okay, now bend forward and touch the ball to the ground.

“bend forward?” fred swallows. feels like he’s about to pass out. 

fp seems totally oblivious to the freak out taking place in front of him, and fred doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse. “yeah. and then when i yell hike you toss me the ball between your legs and start running to the other end of the yard. got it?”

fred nods, voice cracking when he says “got it.” he coughs, tries again. “got it.”

he does what he’s told, listens as fp calls out some random numbers before yelling “hike!” and fred gives over the ball, starts sprinting down towards the hedges that separates his yard from the neighbor’s.

“go long, freddie!” fp instructs before sending the pigskin spiraling perfectly through the air. 

fred has to jump to catch it but he does, feels a weird sense of victory over what’s essentially a game of catch. maybe he just wants to impress the other boy. 

“now you run!” fp yells, already on his way to fred’s side of the yard.

fred doesn’t know where he’s supposed to run to, but common sense tells him he’s not supposed to get caught. so he goes for the other side of the yard, keeping enough distance from fp so that he falls short when he tries to grab hold of fred’s shirt.

the sound of their laughter mixes together with the surrounding ambiance of early evening suburbia, and fred’s just about to declare a touchdown when he’s tackled to the ground.

he groans for second, eyes closed as he rolls on to his back, and when he opens them his breath catches at the sight of fp on top of him, an easy smile on his face just inches away from fred’s. 

“you lose,” fp says, but fred doesn’t feel like he did. but he doesn’t know how to say that out loud without saying too much either.

so he tries to catch his breath, his chest heaving from running around but maybe more from just being in this position. he licks his lips, thinks he catches fp’s eyes following the movement, wonders if maybe it’s just wishful thinking. but fp hasn’t made a move to get up. so maybe…

“boys! dinner’s ready!” fred’s mom calls from the front porch, and suddenly fp’s up and off fred before he’s even had time to blink.

“coming right in, mrs. a!” fp calls back, and fred just wants to sink into the ground, have it swallow him up whole. 

“you coming, freddie?” fp asks, already halfway to the house.

fred rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes, digs them in in some vain attempt to regain his composure. “yeah. yeah, i’ll be right in.”

this is about to be a long year.


	12. Well this is awkward… - gladys/alice

alice walks in to pop’s. her first time back since the whole farm fiasco. she’s been back in town for about a week and she can still feel everyone’s gaze heavy upon her. the judgements. the gossip. it’s like high school all over again.

she can feel it now, in the diner. swears she even hears audible gasps and, really, that’s a little overkill. this town always needs to make a spectacle.

but she ignores it, or tries to. won’t let it get to her as she holds her head high and walks over to the counter to place her lunch order. she thinks maybe she should get it to go, kicks herself for not just placing an order to pick up. or maybe on some level she feels deserving of the silent scolding and ridicule, that’s why she didn’t do either of those things. 

at least everyone has the decency to talk about her behind her back. no one’s really come up and bothered her.

“well, this is awkward.”

alice doesn’t need to turn around to know who that voice belongs to, but she does anyway. is greeted by the sight of gladys jones sitting alone in a booth with nothing but a cup of coffee and a beat up book in front of her. she looks like the cat that just ate the canary and alice knows she shouldn’t engage, but-

“last i heard you had run off with the rest of the circus folk.”

“and last i heard you scurried off after you and your crook of a husband shot up the place,” alice counters, gesturing at the diner.

gladys smirks. licks her lips and chuckles as she looks down at the table top, then back to alice. “good to know lies still spread fast in this town. nobody shot up the place. besides your own husband, of course.” alice crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at the other woman. “besides. it was all a misunderstanding. right, pop?” gladys calls to the older man behind the counter. the look he gives her isn’t all too pleased, but he hasn’t thrown her out yet, so that must count for something.

the blonde scoffs. “a misunderstanding. just like you buying my house, right?”

there’s a flash of something in gladys’ eyes that’s gone before alice has time to name it. 

“hey, i already told you i didn’t know that house was yours. and you didn’t exactly put up a fight over it.”

alice doesn’t say anything. just stands firm and gives her head a little shake to toss her hair over her shoulder.

“so where are you living now?” gladys tries. 

“i got an apartment.” alice still won’t look at her.

“you’re living at the pembrooke?”

alice finally looks at gladys, face scrunched up in disgust. “and be neighbors with the lodges? i’d rather go back to the farm.”

gladys raises her eyebrows, clearly amused. “you know they’re both in prison now, right?”

and no, alice didn’t know that. not that her new place is bad, per se, but the pembrooke definitely would’ve been better. “dammit.” she curses under her breath. “well, at least they finally got what was coming to them. again.”

the two women share a look and soft laughter breaks between them.

gladys softens just a little, leans forward in her seat and spreads her arm across the table to gesture at the opposite side of the booth. “eat lunch with me, al.”

alice hardens her features again, stiffens her shoulders. “no.”

“come on… i’ll pay.”

alice thinks it over. she can see a waitress heading over with her meal and rolls her eyes. fuck it. “fine.” she takes the seat across from gladys as the waitress is setting a basket with a burger and fries in front of her. “can i get another one of these?” she asks, and the waitress smiles, says of course before heading back behind the counter.

“aw that’s sweet of you, al,” gladys says.

“oh, it’s not for you. just figured since you’re paying and all.”

gladys laughs. “touche.”

alice keeps herself occupied by munching away, not really in the mood for further conversation. more like she’s trying to avoid it. gladys jones has always been slippery territory.

gladys tries to go back to her book but can’t get through a single page, rereading the same line over and over before she sets it down in frustration. “okay, look, riverdale’s a small town, and if we’re both back now, we might as well try to be civil.”

alice picks up a fry and bites into it. “is this not me being civil?”

“hardly. we used to be friends, al.” they used to be a lot of things, but that goes left unsaid. 

something in alice’s eyes go cold, like she’s remembering things she’s spent years trying to forget, trying to erase. “there’s a difference between civil and friends.”

the waitress comes by then with alice’s second order, briefly interrupting the tension that’s built up between the two women. 

“oh cut the bullshit, alice,” gladys continues once they’re alone again. “you miss me and you know it. why else are you here right now?”

alice folds her arms over her chest and looks out the window. “i’m hungry and you offered to pay.”

“yeah. ok.” 

gladys reaches over for the second basket of food but alice grabs it at the same time. the two sit frozen, eyes locked on each other like they’re waiting for the other to make a move, daring them to.

“admit it,” gladys challenges. 

alice does no such thing. but she does reluctantly let the basket go for the brunette to take.

gladys smiles in triumph. “this you extending the olive branch?”

alice goes back to picking at her fries, trying her best to feign disinterest. “it’s a burger. don’t read too much into it.”

gladys gives alice a once-over, takes in the subtle flush of pink that’s spreading across her cheeks but for once takes mercy and doesn’t comment, just keeps it for herself. “whatever you say, al.”


	13. This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in. - gladys/fp

gladys, on some level, had always wanted to be a mother.

well, she had always been maternal, at least. turns out being 7 months pregnant and confined to a couch wasn’t exactly her idea of a good time.

“I can’t do two more months of this, FP. I’m going fucking stir crazy.”

“Do you want to go for a walk? We can go for a walk.” 

“No, I do not want to go for a fucking walk!” gladys slams her hands on the couch, catches fp standing in the kitchen giving her that look that means she’s lashing out a little too much. she rubs her hands over face, groans, before composing herself. “I’m sorry.” she still sounds annoyed, but at this point that’s her base level of calm, so fp doesn’t argue.

he walks into the living room, sits on the coffee table in front of the couch, takes one of his wife’s feet and sets it in his lap as he starts massaging. that always seems to do the trick. at least a little bit. “Tell me what you want to do, then.”

gladys looks at him then, something mischievous sparkling in her eye. something dangerous. “You remember high school? Senior year?”

“Yeah…” fp drawls, confused as to where this is going. “What about it?”

“Remember those diner stick-ups we used to pull…?”

fp’s eyes go wide and his hands freeze. she’s not seriously- no way. “Gladys. No.”

“Come on, FP…” she leans forward, or tries to. she can only get so far with her belly in the way and her feet propped up. she tries to reach out and stroke fp’s cheek in that soft, gentle way that always gets her what she wants. it’s a lot harder to seduce him now when even this minimal exertion leaves her winded. 

her fingers barely brush the stubble on his face before fp’s standing up and pacing around the small living room, acting like she just suggested they go on some natural born killers-esque spree. she rubs her stomach and prays their son doesn’t inherit his father’s flair for the dramatic.

“Gladys, you’re pregnant. You can barely walk five feet without getting out of breath. Not to mention the fact that trying to pull a heist while you’re with child is completely fucking insane!”

gladys rolls her eyes and sinks back into the couch. “It is not a heist, calm down. And besides, we used to pull these all the time back in the day and did we ever get hurt? No.”

“How soon we forget the time I almost got my head blown off because some psycho decided to play hero!” fp’s voice got louder as the sentence went on until his face was red and he was practically spitting. gladys had to bite her lip from laughing.

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad. You still have a head, don’t you?” fp stares at her. clearly unamused. “Listen, no one’s gonna play hero this time because no one wants to be responsible if the pregnant lady gets caught in the crossfire. FP, I’m bored!” gladys jones does not pout or whine, but she’s getting dangerously close to it now. “Have my instincts ever steered us wrong before?”

they haven’t. but gladys had never been carrying his child during any of their past capers, which he thinks is an important distinction. 

“you know, most pregnant women just take up knitting or something when they’re bored.” fp doesn’t know what the hell pregnant women do, but that’s neither here nor there.

gladys can already see his resolve slipping. “i already know how to knit.” she smirks. knows she’s just on the verge of winning. “and when have i ever been most women?”

they exchange a look before fp sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat. he walks back over to the coffee table. sits down. gives gladys a look like he’s in charge of her and gladys plays along. thinks it’s cute. 

“if. and i mean if we do this, the second shit even looks like it has the smallest percentage of going south we are out of there. understood?”

gladys raises an eyebrow. “if?”

fp buries his face in his hands, sits there for a few seconds bouncing his knee up and down, up and down, up and down like maybe it’ll shake some sense into him to tell his wife no.

“i never thought i’d say this to you, but this is without a doubt the stupidest plan you have ever had.”

his voice comes out muffled, but gladys can hear him anyway. just needs that tiniest final nudge for them to be off on their way and hopefully a few hundred dollars richer. “but are you in?”

fp finally looks up, arms falling slack between his legs, tired from the most exhausting conversation of his life. “of course i’m in.”

–

“god, that felt good!” gladys yells, trying to rival the volume of the wind whipping through the open windows of the truck as the pair speed away from a diner some two towns over. 

there’s $400 in the bag at her feet, but for the first time in her life she doesn’t care about the money. it’ll help, sure, but it’s been ages since she’s felt this alive.

“you’re fucking crazy, you know that?” fp’s got a smile on his face about a mile wide as he looks over to his wife before turning his attention back to the road. 

“mmm, that’s why you married me, baby.” she scoots over closer on the bench seat, wraps an arm around fp’s shoulders, uses her other hand to grab his chin and pull him in to a kiss that he happily returns. “god, the look on everyone’s faces when you grabbed me and told that waitress to hand over everything in the register… they were shitting bricks.”

fp can’t help but laugh. “at least they’ll have a story for their grandkids.”


	14. will you carry me to bed? - fred/fp

the truck sits idly outside the trailer. it’s the dead of night. fred’s still in his pajamas, too tired to change into anything other than his jacket. 

it’s the fourth night this week he’s done this. been woken up in the middle of the night by his phone ringing, hogeye calling to tell him to come pick up fp, “bastard’s too drunk to stand up.” it’s the fourth night this week. maybe twelfth time this month. fred’s losing track.

fp’s passed out in the passenger seat, head lulled against the window, mouth hanging open just slightly. softly snoring in the way fred used to find cute. now it just pisses him off.

he shouldn’t even be here. when he had fired fp that was supposed to be the end of everything. but then gladys had left and apparently fred was the only responsible person left for anyone to call when fp went off the deep end. fred should have never answered that first call. or any of the ones after.

“wake up,” he says to the sleeping figure next to him. no response. “wake up!” he says louder, this time with an accompanying shove. 

fp jostles, but doesn’t fully awake. just snorts a little before resting back into his corner, not fully aware of where he is or who he’s with. just knows he’s not at the wyrm. 

fred used to have more sympathy, more patience for this. but both have worn so thin they’re practically nonexistent.

“you’re home, fp,” fred tells him, voice raised a little louder than normal to be heard. “get out.”

fp shuffles a little in his seat, curling up closer to the door with no actual attempt to get out. “will you carry me to bed?” he mumbles, in that sleep-tired way where he has no idea what he’s actually saying, just lets words fall from his mouth unbidden.

fred wants to laugh. and cry. and scream. at the utter audacity fp has to ask him that question. at the fact that he’s actually stepping out of the truck to do it. goes over to the passenger side, catching fp as he falls out. fred’s not strong enough to carry the dead weight. ends up half dragging fp up the trailer’s front steps while he’s slumped into fred’s side. it’s a hassle getting the keys out of fp’s jacket, but fred manages. it’s the last time he’ll ever do this, he decides. a lie he’s told himself a thousand times before, but tonight will be different. tonight it will be true.

they make their way inside, fred lugging fp down the small hallway to the bedroom, fp never once showing any sign of consciousness. the warm breath on fred’s neck the only sign of life. 

he tosses fp onto the bed. doesn’t bother to undress him or clean him up like he used to. let fp deal with his own mess in the morning for once.

fp makes himself comfortable in his sleep, burrowing his face into his pillow and looks almost peaceful. it makes fred want to scream and yell and punch and kick all over again. 

“you’re a selfish bastard, you know that?” fred says to no one. says to fp even though he can’t hear. and maybe that’s the point. “everything i’ve done for you and this is the thanks i get. that gladys gets. we all get. you’re not the only one suffering, fp. but we all have to pay for it.” his voice starts to shake, can feel the heat welling up in his eyes. grateful that fp’s not awake to see this. doesn’t want that embarrassment. 

“we keep waiting for you to grow up and you never do. well, i guess i’m the last idiot to catch on. i tried to make gladys stay for you, you know that? no. of course you don’t.” he laughs, but it’s hollow. runs a hand over his face. “she told me i was fighting a losing battle and i knew she was right, but i didn’t- i still couldn’t give up on you. despite everything.”

fp makes a little noise in the back of his throat, but is otherwise unresponsive. still dead to the world. 

“and mary,” fred sighs. “the fights we get into every time i get the call to come get you. we’re fucking falling apart and you should know that because you’re supposed to be my best friend, remember? remember that, fp? when you used to give a shit about someone other than yourself?” his voice gets progressively louder. maybe he’s hoping it’ll wake fp up. make him face this shit. but fp doesn’t. and fred knows this is it.

“i’m done. and i mean it this time. i can’t-” his voice breaks, tears freely falling now. “i can’t keep doing this, f.”

the heavy silence fills the room. that tiny part of fred that can’t ever really let go hopes that fp heard him. that he’ll get up and apologize and promise to be better and they can go back to normal. 

but fp doesn’t wake up. just turns over in bed, back facing fred. and fred isn’t surprised. doesn’t make the realization hurt any less. that they’re done. for good. forever. and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t save someone when they didn’t want to be. 

he nods his head, wipes the tears from his eyes. whispers “goodbye, fp.” and leaves.

-

it’s two nights later he wakes up to a phone call. his cell screen lighting up with that familiar number. this time he hits ignore.


	15. I took NyQuil instead of DayQuil on accident and now im about to pass out. - gladys/alice

alice does not know how to do anything half-assed. she has one mode: go, and she’ll be damned if she lets something as asinine as a common cold slow her down.

she’s been non-stop all morning, doing her best to ignore the little symptoms that keep creeping up to disrupt her. it’s not until she’s parked outside the grocery store, feeling the ache in her throat and the subtle pounding in her head, that she finally gives in. her head against the steering wheel, eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to calm her body down, she blindly reaches into her purse, digging around until she finds the box of medication she keeps for emergencies. 

she dry-swallows two pills and shakes off the resulting lump in her throat before touching up her face in the rearview mirror and heading into the store.

all’s fine, at first. she makes her way down each aisle, checking off her grocery list one item at a time. her cart halfway to full by the time she starts slowing down her stride. she’s having trouble focusing, the words on her slip of paper becoming blurry as she’s fighting back a yawn behind her hand. 

she doesn’t even notice she’s sharing the aisle until her cart crashes into someone else’s.

“hey! watch where you’re go- alice cooper! well, i’ll be damned.”

alice groans. she’s in no mood to deal with people right now, least of all gladys jones. “hello, gladys. goodbye, gladys,” she says, keeping their interaction short and sweet so she can go about her day. hopefully make it home in time to slip in a nap to shake off this sudden grogginess. 

but of course gladys can’t just let her have this. she’s stopped with a hand to her elbow as she tries to walk by, gladys’ face suddenly in hers. she’s got that same playful smirk she always does when she’s trying to get alice to take the bait, but her eyes betray just a hint of concern. 

“what’s wrong with you? you look like shit.” 

“thank you.” alice rolls her eyes. “i’m fine.” she snatches her arm out of the other woman’s grip, the force of it causing her to stagger aside before gladys can catch her arms and hold her upright.

“wanna try that again?” gladys raises an eyebrow, doesn’t let go of alice.

seeing as how gladys clearly won’t let up until she’s satisfied, alice clenches her jaw and rolls her eyes to the ceiling before sighing. “fine. i wasn’t feeling well. i took a pill. end of story. can i go now?”

“what’d you take?”

gladys won’t stop with the third degree, but her hands have fallen from alice’s arms now, so alice is at least grateful for that. “dayquil.”

gladys squints her eyes, like something isn’t adding up. “you sure about that?”

alice scoffs, but it’s broken up by another yawn. “i think i know what i took.”

“lemme see.”

“what? no.”

“let me see what you took!” gladys says as she reaches for alice’s purse.

“no!” alice swats her hand away, which does nothing to deter gladys’ efforts. the two women end up standing there in the middle of the aisle - gladys trying to reach around alice while alice keeps barricading her cart behind her. it’s ridiculous. alice feels ridiculous. “alright! fine!” she finally yells, a little louder than maybe necessary if the alarmed, slightly judgmental look she’s given by old Mrs. Kovorsky is anything to go by. Alice just widens her eyes in a ‘what are you looking at’ manner before digging into her purse.

she retrieves the little pill box she had reached for earlier and immediately freezes. “oh no…” she says, mostly to herself.

“‘oh no’ what?” gladys asks, stepping up behind her.

alice would feel more embarrassed if the crushing weight of exhaustion wasn’t settling over her bones right now. “i took nyquil instead of dayquil, and now i’m about to pass out.”

it’s the only warning she gives before she falls backwards, everything going black.

-

when alice wakes up, she’s on her couch, of all places. with absolutely no recollection of actually getting there. she peaks her head up out of the quilt that’s been tossed over her, can’t be bothered to actually lift her head to see anything beyond the coffee table in front of her. still too drowsy. “what the…”

“oh good. you’re awake.”

it’s gladys’ voice. unmistakable. she wonders briefly what the hell gladys jones is doing in her house before everything comes back to her. the grocery store. the fainting. the fleeting sensation of gladys’ arms locked around her before the fainting…

gladys comes around into view. takes a seat on the coffee table in front of alice like she owns it. “drink this.” she holds out a glass of water with one hand, uses the other to motion alice upwards.

“how’d you get in my house,” alice grouches, but she sits up and takes the drink anyway, her mouth suddenly bone dry.

“i smashed a window and crawled through.” alice almost chokes on her water, ready to start yelling about her vandalized home. gladys just chuckles. “relax. i used your key, dummy. god, this place has really done a number on you.” gladys looks around the room with just a hint of distain. alice knows it’s not the house she has a problem with. it’s the north side in general. it’s alice finding a home here in more ways than one.

“don’t start. i’m not in the mood.” alice sets her glass down by gladys’ leg. “and get off my table, you animal.”

“now who’s the one starting?” gladys makes no move to get up, and alice can’t be bothered to press the issue. she just rolls her eyes and snuggles back into the couch.

gladys leans forward then, presses the back of her hand to alice’s forehead, brows pinching together. “you’re running a little hot. want me to run you a bath?”

“you just wanna see me naked.” it comes out muffled against the couch cushion. alice hopes gladys’ didn’t hear it. doesn’t even know why she said it. she’s delirious, obviously. her energy too drained to lie.

“if i wanted you naked, ali, there are better ways.”

alice ignores the heat rising throughout her as gladys’ eyes linger. blames it on the fever. the moment feels too intense all of a sudden. “shouldn’t you be out robbing a bank or something?” she says to try and break the moment, but there’s no real venom in her words.

gladys just smirks down at her, and it does nothing to quell the tension arising. “i’ll take that as my cue to leave. don’t wanna be around when coop and the kiddos come home, anyway.”

there’s a sinking feeling in alice’s stomach that she’d rather not think too much about as she watches gladys get up. it’s probably just nausea. 

gladys grabs her jacket off the hook by the door, a gesture that feels oddly at place in alice’s eyes. domestic. like they’ve always shared this space. 

“oh, and don’t worry about your groceries,” gladys says as she turns around to look back at alice. “all taken care of.”

“you bought my groceries?” alice questions, slowly sitting up now. 

“i’m full of surprises, baby,” gladys says with a wink. alice bites her slip to keep herself from smiling. “they’re all put away. i’m sure you’ll have a problem with where i put them, but you can yell at me when we see each other in another 20 years.”

alice doesn’t think she’s meant to detect the slight bitterness in gladys’ words, but she does anyway. doesn’t really know what she’s supposed to say back. there’s too much and not enough. 

gladys is reaching for the door by the time alice finds her tongue. blurts out a quick “thank you,” that surprises them both. 

gladys looks over her shoulder for a second, like maybe she’s waiting for something more. alice wishes she had it, but she doesn’t. so gladys gives her a small smile and a nod her her head and slips out like she was never there at all.


	16. take off your shirt - gladice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my apologies to hal cooper. 
> 
> this is unedited so like.... be nice

She knew tonight would be a shit show. Didn’t matter that she had spent two weeks saving up money to actually buy a respectable enough outfit for dinner with the Coopers when she could have just stolen one. Because she wanted to fit in. Wanted them to like her. Didn’t want to feel like even more of an outcast in clothes she swiped from the local department store. 

Turns out, you can take the girl out of the South Side, but you can’t take the South Side out of the girl. Not according to Prudence Cooper and the giant stick he has lodged up her ass, anyway. 

Alice had been on her best behavior from the second she stepped foot on Elm Street. Had smiled and said all the right things. Had gone so far as to make Hal teach her proper dinner etiquette because she wanted to get everything perfectly right. And none of it mattered. Because all Prudence Cooper had done the whole night was look down her nose at her. Did that shit that all those bored, stuffy, suburban housewives do where they make these cryptic little jabs at you with a smile on their face so you have to think twice about if you’ve just been insulted. Because God forbid they say what they really feel. That’s too tacky, apparently. But playing mind games with a teenager is acceptable. 

By the time dinner was over Alice’s palms were bleeding from her nails digging into them so hard. Because, for as much as she wanted to jump over the table and deck Prudence Cooper in her little Puritan face, she knew better. Because, in spite of his nutjob mother, Alice still loved Hal. Even though she was questioning that allegiance now. 

Not once during that dinner from hell did he pipe his big mouth up to say anything in her defense. He’s her boyfriend. That’s supposed to mean something. All the shit she gets from everyone for dating a North Sider, a Cooper, no less, and she always defends him. And he can’t say one thing to his mother.

So now here she was, at some house party drowning her sorrows, her anger. She’d come here with Hal, she remembers that much. But the minute she stepped inside she made it her mission to stay away from him the rest of the night. She wanted to wipe all memory of Hal and the Coopers from her mind, and she was doing a pretty damn good job of it, if she said so herself. 

There was some blue concoction in a giant bowl in the kitchen that kind of tasted like ass, if she was honest. But, fortunately, it had lost all flavor by her third cup, so she kept going back for more.

She’s lost count by now of how many times she’s sent some freshman to fetch her a refill while she hides out in any other corner of the house that isn’t the kitchen because Hal gave up trying to chase her only for her to dodge him. Thought he was being smart parking it in the kitchen to wait for her to come back for another drink. Like she wouldn’t figure out a way around that one.

But apparently Hal’s wizened up to that plan, too. She can see him moving through the crowd of partygoers, obviously looking for her. She’s got the advantage, though, crouched down on the floor out of view. Time to move, though. Can’t risk Hal finding her and turning this night into an even worse fiasco.

Getting up proves to be a little more difficult than anticipated. The room immediately starts spinning, and she has to reach her hand out to the nearest wall to steady herself. Stands still, takes a couple of deep breaths, then she’s good to go. 

Except she’s not. Barely a step forward and she’s falling sideways into the wall. 

“Fuck,” she says on impact before falling into a fit of giggles. The wall suddenly feels like exactly where she needs to be. It’s nice. Soft. Safe...

“Jesus, Al, how much have you had tonight?”

There’s arms around her suddenly. Strong, but skinny. Not Hal’s. And that voice... definitely not Hal’s. Too feminine, even with the grit it possesses. Something oddly familiar she can’t quite place.

“‘m fine,” she says, trying to push out of whoever’s hold she’s in. The room’s so dark around her. Can’t see shit in front her, but that doesn’t matter. She’s just gotta move forward.

“Like hell you are. C’mon, where’s that boytoy of yours?”

Alice’s eyes flutter open at that. Suddenly the room’s not so dark anymore. Gladys Cohen is the one holding her up, she sees now. Because this night just had to get worse for her.

“Don’t wanna see him.” The words slur coming out of her mouth. 

Gladys huffs beside her. “Fine. Whatever. But I’m cutting you off.”

She reaches for the cup just as Alice is bringing it to her lips. The reaction is slow, but once Alice is keyed in to what Gladys is doing, she jerks her hand away out of reach. “Fuck off.”

“Don’t be a brat.” 

Gladys reaches over again for the cup, this time successfully getting ahold of it. Only serves to make Alice pull back, an anger flaring up inside her. 

“Get off me!”

“I’m not letting you get alcohol poisoning over a fight with your boyfriend, that’s so fucking cliche, Al!”

“It’s none of your business!”

Alice swings her arm back towards her in full force, and she feels it instantly. The warm liquid spilling down her shirt, pressing it to her skin. She looks down and sees nothing but a big purple splotch, the blue drink mixing in with the soft pink of her satin blouse. 

The blouse she spent weeks saving for. The blouse that was supposed to solve all her problems. The blouse that couldn’t save her from making a bad impression on Hal’s mother. 

A dam breaks. Tears free flow down her face and there’s a whine coming from the back of her throat, high and shrill and she doesn’t even care.

“Aw, shit. Al-”

“Everything’s ruined!” She yells with everything she has in her. Pounds both her fists into Gladys’ chest, hard enough that she stumbles back a step, before running off to the nearest bathroom.

She slams the door shut as soon as she gets inside. Grabs the nearest hand towel and places under the water and furiously starts scrubbing away at the stain. Some color rubs off onto the towel but it’s doing nothing to remove it from her shirt. 

Vision blurry with tears, Alice gives up, throwing the towel down with a growl before gripping the countertop in front of her. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears, but it does nothing. She should’ve known better. Playing dress-up for one night doesn’t change anything. She’ll always be South Side trash, and the universe won’t let her forget it. 

There’s a soft tapping at the door. Alice rubs her sleeve under nose before answering. “Go away.” But it’s half-hearted.

The door slowly opens. Gladys peaks her head through, like she’s making sure it won’t get bitten off. When she deems it safe enough she lets herself fully in, closing the door behind her. “You okay?”

Alice sniffles. “Do I look okay?”

“Maybe not your finest hour, but I’ve got no complaints.”

Alice rolls her eyes.

“Take off your shirt,” Gladys commands, jutting her chin out at her.

“I’m not in the mood, G-”

Gladys laughs. “And I’m not trying to fuck the drunk girl. Take off your shirt.” She sets a jug of detergent she must’ve gotten from the laundry room down onto the counter before sliding her jacket off. 

Alice gets the hint, then, and starts unbuttoning her blouse. Gladys is removing her own shirt - some old and hand-me-down Runaways tee - and handing it over. Stands there in nothing but her bra and ripped jeans.

With a tentative hand, Alice takes it, tries her best to avoid looking. Their fingers brushing for the briefest second before Gladys is reaching for the stained blouse. Gets to work on making it look new again.

Alice slips the old shirt on. Can smell the brand of cigarettes Gladys smokes on it. The ones they used to share under the bleachers between periods and behind the Wyrm before Alice decided to quite. There’s an undercurrent of something pleasant there, too. Cinnamon and cloves. A mix that is so distantly Gladys. It makes her head spin, but she’ll blame that on her drunken state.

It makes the tears start falling again.

“Woah, hey.” Gladys abandons the shirt in the sink and turns to pull Alice into her arms. “What’s got you all worked up, blondie?”

Sometimes Alice feels like she made a mistake. That she chose wrong. And she hates to admit because, because she loves Hal. But. She misses her old life, too. And right now... everything feels too familiar. In Gladys’ shirt, in Gladys’ arms. The way Gladys is petting her hair and making her feel okay when everything’s not okay. 

She pulls back enough to look Gladys in the eyes. Gladys traces a fingertip softly at her temple, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear and in that split second Alice makes the decision to lean forward, press their lips together.

It’s wrong. She knows. Hal’s outside looking for her, worried about her. And here she is hiding away, kissing her ex girlfriend. 

Gladys’ mouth opens in a gasp, and Alice takes it as an invitation. Except. 

Gladys presses the palm of her hand to Alice’s chest, pushing her back gently. “I’m not doing this, Al,” she says. There’s no anger in her voice. No hostility, surprisingly. Just... a rational calm that Alice feels so far away from.

“Why not?” Alice pouts.

Gladys smiles, but it seems sad. “Because your boyfriend’s outside.”

“You don’t even like Hal.” She goes in for another kiss, but is stopped short with Gladys’ hand to her chest again.

“But you do. You’re drunk, and upset, and I’m not interested in taking advantage.”

“Gladys-”

Gladys slips her leather back on. Zips it up to just her navel before turning to open the door. She pauses, turns to nod at the shirt in the sink. “Be gentle with that but keep scrubbing. Should come out just fine. Then go make up with your boyfriend.”

She turns to leave for good this time, but the moment doesn’t feel finished. Things never really feel finished when it comes to them.

“Gladys?”

She’s chewing on her bottom lip when she turns to face Alice again. Eyebrows raised in expectancy. 

But there’s no words coming to Alice. Nothing feels significant enough to encapsulate the moment, everything she’s feeling. Hell if she even knows what she’s feeling. Longing? Regret? Apologetic? All of it all at once.

The silence hangs heavy between them, but Gladys must feel it, too. She gives Alice a final nod before leaving, shutting the door behind her. And Alice is left alone, wiping a tear from her eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos much appreciated


End file.
